


Provisions

by J (j_writes)



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey Way: a man who knows how to get things</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provisions

**Author's Note:**

> Killjoys verse

Three thousand in the shade, and Gerard was outside. Mikey's boots echoed hollowly against the wood of the porch as he followed, settling down on the steps, stretching his legs out in front of him so that just his toes peeked into the pool of sunlight on the walkway.

Gerard stood on the asphalt and stared into the sky, sunlight glinting off his sunglasses in every direction.

"We're going to need a car," he said.

Mikey nodded. He knew a guy.  
______________

At each bend in the road, Mikey knew a guy. It used to be that he could get into a club with just a nod at the bouncer, find a jacket Gerard never knew he needed, get him a showing in a gallery that had been booked solid for years.

These days, his talents ran more towards gas, water, life essentials that the Mikey of before never would have given a second thought to. They'd pull off the road with a screech and a cloud of dust, and Gerard would stay in the car, watching through the grimy windows as terse updates and unlabeled packages were exchanged. Sometimes there would be a look, a fleeting touch, a twitch of a smile as someone reached up towards Mikey's carelessly bleached hair. In the car, Gerard would turn away, engrossed in staring at the landscape that never changed except to get brighter. Even now, when information was everything, there were things he didn't need to know.

Whatever Mikey got, he shared with Gerard. It wasn't a deal, an exchange...it was just how things were, how they always had been. They'd leave the same way they came, kicking up dirt from the road in their wake, driving into the sun. Mikey would watch Gerard's fingers gripping the wheel too hard, smudged with grease instead of ink.

He no longer felt like drawing.  
______________

Toro looked older when they found him again, and when he led them back to where he'd been holing up, Frank peeked out at them from under a pile of blankets with a weary expression that made Mikey's chest ache. Gerard stood in the doorway, backlit, searching for words, but Mikey just crossed the room, settled into Frank's nest with him, and let him curl up with his head in Mikey's lap. His hair was the same, dark and inexplicably clean where it curled through Mikey's fingers as he sat and said nothing.

He took the car the next morning, and thought they were all asleep until he saw Ray in his rearview mirror, watching as he faded into the dawn behind him. He didn't come back until the sun had set, and ignored their questions as he made his way back to Frank's side. "Here," he said, and pressed a bottle of pills into Frank's hands. He rolled over with his back to them all, and watched shadows merge and separate on the wall.

They existed like that, for a while. Four separate entities in one space, making it from morning to night and then to morning again. Eventually, they began making music. Because they could, because they had to.  
_______________

Mikey leaned back on his elbows and listened to the steady rhythm of Frank's boots against the vending machine until the pattern faltered, got louder. "Let me," he said, standing and stretching, and he nudged Frank aside. He pressed the buttons again, pushed the flap open a few times, and kicked it expertly right in the middle. The machine made a dull rattle, and dispensed a newspaper.

Frank laughed - a startling sound, a sound from before - and he took the paper, leaning casually back against the side of the machine. "Not what I was going for..." he said, but started humming as he flipped through the pages. Mikey tried again: first button, fourth button, second, second, third, then gave it a solid punch, and there was a quiet thud as a box of cigarettes landed in the tray.

He took them wordlessly and held them out to Frank.

Frank smiled as he took them, then sobered. His other hand wrapped around the gun in his holster, and he looked up at Mikey. " _Now_ we're ready," he said.

Mikey's eyes went to the car, to Gerard leaning against the hood, his eyes shielded as he stared into the sun. "We're ready," he agreed, and he tucked his helmet under his arm, looking down at the visor.

 _Good luck._


End file.
